


bones trembling (like a wakeup call)

by palateens



Series: The Opposite of Us [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Borderline Personality Disorder, Communication Failure, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fights, Healing, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jack Zimmermann's Overdose, Kent has two moms, M/M, Making Up, Mental Health Issues, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Other, Polyamory Negotiations, Post-Break Up, Pride, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-06 07:24:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14636930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palateens/pseuds/palateens
Summary: Jack loves Bitty. Once he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll go crawling back to him.





	1. not what you need

Kent wakes up early on a Saturday morning in late January to the sound of pounding on his front door. He crawls out of bed with a loud yawn, almost tripping over Kit as he stumbles through the house. His eyes are still shut tight, not wanting to deal with the fucking sunlight on a rare morning when he can sleep in.

He’s half awake as he opens the door, feeling someone throw their arms around him. He sighs into the hug as he smells the familiar scent of pine, sweat, and something spicy. Kent lets out a tight sob. Sometimes he forgets how scared and lonely he feels. Sometimes he forgets that Jack is still alive. That maybe Kent lost him forever, but the world didn’t. It’s a morose kind of relief, being able to smell him and feel him breathe against Kent’s chest.

“Hey Zimms,” he whispers as he rubs Jack’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Maybe that was the wrong question he realizes as Jack starts to tremble. Kent pushes the worst case scenario as far down in his mind as possible. Whatever Jack needs, he came for help. That’s a fucking miracle in Kent’s book.

“Whoa, ok no worries,” Kent says. “Can we go inside?”

Jack nods, allowing himself to be lead back to Kent’s room. He doesn’t have luggage with him, Kent notes once they’re inside his room. Kent wipes some of the sleep from his eyes.

“C’mon,” he gestures toward the bed. “Take your shoes off and get in.”

He watches Jack slowly shuffle toward the bed, kicking off his shoes and jeans before climbing into his side of the bed. Kent chastises himself internally. It isn’t Jack’s side of the bed. It hasn’t been in a few years. But it’s the side Jack would normally sleep on. Kent’s never gotten used to how empty it feels.

Kent gets under the covers next to him, stroking Jack’s hair as his breathing steadies.

“You wanna talk about it?” Kent asks.

Jack stares at him for a moment. It isn’t the same grotesque glare he received on the regular when they were teenagers. This isn’t old Jack, tired of Kent’s meddling and ready to snap. It’s the somber stare of someone debating whether or not to trust the person in front of them.

Kent sighs. He really can’t blame Jack for not trusting him. Part of him just hopped that after all this time...they could be friends. Real fucking friends who look out for each other.

That’s what he thought the last six months had been about.

Suddenly, Jack pulls him into another hug, squeezing him gently against his chest.

“Maybe later,” Jack says. “I’m still...processing. I think.”

He nods, melting into the crook of Jack’s neck.

“Whatever you need, Zimms, I’m here for you,” he says.

Jack stiffens for a second, before saying, “If you say so.”

They lapse into silence after that. Once Jack’s body starts to ease up, once it feels like he’s asleep, Kent gets his shit together enough to argue.

“I mean it,” he whispers. “I’d do anything for you, Jack...I thought you’d know that by now.”

 

_/.\\_

 

Sometime later, Kent’s alarm goes off. He shifts in bed, reaching out for his phone. It’s turned off before he can reach it, but he squishes himself against a warm body. His eyes snap open immediately, staring frantically at Jack’s fugly hockey shirt. It’s one of the ugly ones from the training camp they were both at last summer.

Kent huffs. “Wasn’t a dream, huh? You’re really here.”

Jack watches him for a second, like he’s trying to figure out the right thing to say. Jack shrugs, forcing Kent to give him the biggest eye roll in the better part of a decade.

“That’s it? No ‘hey Kent, I need a place to crash for a while’?”

“Hey Kenny, I need a place to crash for a while,” Jack says playfully.

“Ok, wanna tell me why?”

Jack’s grin falls. “Eric and I broke up.”

Well that’s...honestly more surprising to Kent than it probably should be. He sits up, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“So...do you wanna talk about it? We don’t have to…” _but you probably should_ , he doesn’t say.

Jack groans, thumping his head against Kent’s headboard. He closes his eyes for a minute, taking deep, slow breaths. And then he starts talking. He weaves a fucking tale about how he’s been kicking his ass to make everyone happy, and Eric doesn’t give a flying fuck. How Eric doesn’t care about what’s best for Jack and resents Kent for being there for him.

If Jack had been telling him this story even a year ago, Kent probably would have destroyed heaven and hell to give that kid a piece of his mind. Now, however, he knows better. Ok...he’s still a mentally ill fuck up with a death wish that comes back about every other day. But he’s working on it.

And he knows Jack. Jack’s side of the story can sometimes be true, but most of the time it’s ugly against anyone who doesn’t do exactly what he wants. Kent buries his face in his hands, taking a deep breath. Whether he likes it or not, Jack has to admit his problems aren’t one sided. For once in his fucking life, Kent thinks.

“He’s got a point, Zimms,” Kent says. “You should’ve been going to him with your problems.”

“Don’t take his side,” he snaps.

“I’m not!”

“You’re defending him,” Jack says.

Kent forgot how impossible Jack can be when he thinks the world is against him.

“I’m saying he has a fucking point! But I’m literally on your side! How could I not be?”

Jack stares incredulously. “You are?”

“You’re in my fucking bed,” Kent says. “We’ve been on the phone nonstop for six fucking months now.”

“...your point?”

Kent takes a deep breath, stopping short of strangling him. His feelings aren’t the point. This is about Jack and his problems. It’s always about Jack.

“How do you feel right now?”

“I’m...upset? Frustrated? I don’t fucking know, Parse,” he says.

Kent weighs their options for a moment. He could be totally polite. But his therapist has been trying to get him to be more assertive.

“Do you think we can have a civil discussion right now, or can we knock each other around a little bit without tripping up your anxiety?”

Jack glares at him cautiously. “We can try fighting.”

This is probably not what his therapist had in mind. But fuck it. Fuck everything that says they have to get through a decade of unresolved garbage quietly.

“You can tap me on the shoulder if we need to stop alright?”

Jack nods. “You first.”

“Six fucking months, Jack,” Kent says. “You’ve called me every fucking day for the last six months to talk you through your fucking panic attacks and what do I get? Not a fucking how are you? Am I some sort of free therapist to you?”

“Of course not,” Jack says indignantly. “Why didn’t you tell me it was too much?”

“Because you always call me when you’re in trouble! How else am I supposed to react?”

“We could talk afterward. Crisse, Kent, I can’t read your mind.”

Kent scrubs his face. “Zimms, I don’t have anything left in me once I know you’re ok.”

Jack opens his mouth to argue—  

“But before you get any stupid ideas in your brain, no you’re not a burden. I just…fuck don’t you have a therapist?”

“I used to,” he says with a shrug.

“...And what happened to them?”

“I didn’t need therapy anymore,” Jack says. “I got past my problems from the Q.”

Kent crosses his arms, glaring at him. The air in the room is acrid and stale. He faintly wonders when was the last time Jack fucking showered.

“Have you ever considered that therapists don’t have to be a one time thing and maybe coming out to the entire fucking world is reason enough to go back to one?”

Jack shrugs. He hadn’t considered that apparently. Honestly, what the actual fuck. Sometimes Kent wonders how Jack even functions as an adult...And then he remembers Jack has a fucking management team, his parents, a posse of adoring college friends, a boyfriend (...ex boyfriend) to dote on all of his physical needs, and Kent to take care of his emotional problems.

It’s no fucking wonder the boy prodigy never grew up. After everything they’ve been through, Kent hoped Jack would’ve learned how to take care of himself by now. But maybe he didn’t need to because he knew Kent would always be there to catch him if he fell. That’s how it worked in the Q, after the draft, when he first got the C in college...fuck he even had Kent as a safety net for signing in the NHL.

Kent sighs. He can’t be the one at fault here. He’s the one who got dragged into this shit, not the other way around.

“I need to tap out of this conversation, but we can finish it after my game tonight, alright?”

“Alright,” Jack agrees reluctantly.

He lets Kent reheat some leftovers and lets himself get shoved into the shower. Kent’s apartment isn’t very big—just the living room, kitchen, two bedrooms and a bath. It’s fine, though. Kent’s never been used to a whole lot of space. He hasn’t needed much of it since most of the people he cared about on this team quit or was traded a long time ago. He’s never needed a lot in terms of company anyhow.

Jack’s ghost has always been enough.

 

_/.\\_

 

Despite what Kent said earlier in the day, they don’t go back to talking about Bitty. Kent gets back from playing Colorado exhausted. He throws a bag of takeout onto Jack’s lap and steals the remote.

“Hey,” Jack says somewhat annoyed.

“You’re not even watching the good season of ANTM,” he says. “What are you doing with your life, Zimms?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “Just got dumped. Let me live, Parse.”

Kent shoves him slightly. So of course Jack has to shove him back. It’s all in good fun until the shoving gets a little out of hand. Jack topples Kent over, and next thing he knows they’re kissing. Logically, Jack wants to stop. But kissing people, Kent especially, is addictive. It’s hard to stop once he starts.

It catches him off guard when Kent rolls them both off the couch. Jack conveniently lands against a fallen couch cushion. He gawks as Kent waggles his eyebrows and cocks that stupid smirk of his. Jack is an expert in Kenny’s facial expression. This one is his least favorite. It’s that stupid smirk he flashes when he’s on the defensive.

Jack watches him cackle for a minute, dragging Kent back down to his lips when he starts to calm down. They’ve gotten better at talking, but kissing has always been a common thread between them. Kissing for them is just any other way of saying  “I’m here, but you’re thinking too loud.”

He sighs as Kent melts into him. It’s almost perfect. Of course, almost means someone has to get in the way of that. Specifically, Kent’s house phone goes off next to Jack. He grabs it out from underneath the coffee table. The caller ID reads Gina Parson.

The blood drains from Jack’s face. He sits up, not caring that Kent falls off him.

“Why is she calling you?” Jack hisses.

Kent shrugs. “She does that sometimes.”

“Are you going to pick up?”

Kent balks. “No?”

Jack doesn’t believe him in the slightest.

“Don’t fucking give me that look,” Kent snaps.

“Just pick it up,” he says, shaking his head.

“No,” Kent says as he declines the call.

“I know you’re going to call her behind my back.”

The room is dark except for the television. Jack watches Kent’s head drop as a blue silhouette flickers against his face. Kent’s glare is indignant, impatient...maybe even hurt. As if Gina didn’t ruin so much of Kent’s life. As if she wasn’t responsible for how things went south between them last time.

“Do you fucking hear yourself?” Kent says finally. “I told you I stopped talking to her four years ago. I told you that millions of times. What do you want from me?”

“You still care about her,” he says accusingly.

“She’s my mom!”

 _That’s not the point,_ Jack seethes internally.“She’s abusive and she uses you for your money.”

“Like your parents are any better?”

“Kent—”

“No, I’m sick of you shitting on her when you’d fucking slam the door in my face if I said even the smallest fucking criticism about Bob.”

“That’s different,” Jack says.

Kent growls frustratedly. “You never had a choice! He never fucking listened to you and he didn’t give a flying fuck about what was good for you. You were forced into this fucking life that almost killed you!”

“Fuck off,” Jack says. “I love hockey.”

Kent laughs. It’s cracked and vicious. It occurs to Jack that this only happens when he pushes too hard. Kent never goes for the jugular unless Jack rips him a new one first.

“Yea? Like you love photography?” Kent says.

“Shut up,”Jack warns quietly.

“You’re so good at photography,” he says, dramatically waving his arms around like a madman. “You’re brilliant, and it doesn’t make you physically ill just thinking about it.”

“I’m not quitting hockey for you,” Jack says.

“I never asked you to!”

Kent slams his hand against the nearest couch cushion. He picks up a throw pillow, smothering himself as he screams into it. Jack sighs. They haven’t fought like this in years, but it’s still too soon.

“I never asked you to,” Kent says again, panting. “But let’s face it, Zimms. We’d both be happier if I just quit.”

Jack gets up quietly, grabbing the bag of fast food Kent picked up for them. He goes into Kent’s bedroom, slamming the door behind him. He puts the TV on in there and eats as he calms down. He knows Kent will go take a shower, maybe scream a little. Then he’ll come to bed and maybe they’ll talk about it or maybe they won’t.

At this point they’re pros at fighting with each other. It isn’t always pretty, but Jack feels like they’re learning how to say what they mean and get to the real issues.

He laughs to himself. It only took five years to get to the point where they could have arguments that weren’t totally destructive. Maybe that’s what he and Bittle needed, more time to fight. He chastises himself. That’s a terrible idea and he knows it. They need...needed more. More space, more boundaries...more support and resources probably.

Kent trudges into the bedroom not too long afterward. His wet curly hair is plastered against his forehead and his boxers are covered in watermelons. He ignores Jack as he refiles through the dresser.

“You should put on my jersey,” Jack says.

Kent snorts. “You’re a possessive ass.”

“You love my ass,” he points out.

“Didn’t you like...just break up with your boyfriend because he thought you were cheating on him?”

“We’re friends, Parse,” Jack reminds him. “What Bits thinks is his own problem.”

Kent tenses, facing away from jack as he slips on leggings and an old Samwell jersey.

“You gotta stop doing that,” Kent says. “Whatever he thinks, he didn’t just come up with that by himself. Not everyone is well versed in the art of Jack Zimmermann logic.”

“But you are,” Jack argues.

“Yea, but I’ve had years of practice.” Kent says as plops himself next to Jack, reaching over him to grab a half cold burger. “‘Ts what friends are for, y’know?”

Jack wraps an arm around Kent’s shoulder, pulling him into his side. He kisses Kent’s temple, thinking maybe he should listen to him more.  

 

_/.\\_   

  

It’s six am a few days later. Jack wakes up overheated and glued to Kent’s side. He doesn’t register anything besides needing to use the restroom. He pushes himself away from Kent, heading to the bathroom.

“Don’t close the door,” Kent shouts after him.

He ignores Kent. It’s early and he deserves some privacy. Which doesn’t stop Kent’s voice from getting more frantic by the second. He drowns out the sound of Kent’s voice with humming. If anything, it makes Kent’s protests worse.

Jack groans as he pisses. He’s so sick of this stupid rule. He’s tired that years after the draft, Kent hasn’t fucking moved on. He takes his time washing his hands. He opens the door an inch but doesn’t come out.

Eventually, Kent walks in, pale and slightly out of breath.

“What the fuck Jack,” he whispers.

“There, was that so hard?”

Kent goes beet red. “You fucking know why I ask you to do that.”

“It was eight years ago, Kent,” he says angrily. “Get over it.”

He watches Kent storm out of the room. He hears crashing in the kitchen, sighing as he follows the sound. He finds Kent sitting on the counter with a tray of ice and two cubes against his wrist.

Jack narrows his gaze. Kent’s eyes are squeezed shut. He’s shaking like a leaf as he presses the ice harder into his skin. Jack doesn’t understand any of this.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” Kent hisses. “I need a minute.”

Jack nods, silently watching Kent as he breathes erratically. It’s surreal, watching Kent lose it like this. He’s always been the strong one between the two of them. He’s the one that helps Jack keep going. He’s the one that fights for what they need—with the league and with their families.  

Kent is a lot of things, but perfect isn’t one of them. Jack realizes that the ice is one of those self-harm replacement techniques. He wonders if Kent got that from his therapist. It doesn’t seem to be helping so Jack takes a couple steps to close the gap between them.

“Take off your pants,” Jack says.

Kent looks at him warily for a second before slipping his leggings off. Jack grabs one of the ice cubes, placing it gently against one of the scars on Kent’s right inner thigh. Kent shivers.

“You weren’t supposed to know about these,” Kent whispers.

“You weren’t supposed to see me overdose,” Jack counters.

Kent huffs, it’s like a weak willed laugh. “Call it even?”

Jack bends over, kissing one of the scars on Kent’s left thigh.

“No,” Jack says. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

For pushing him away. For insisting that Jack’s always right. For leaving Kent alone but still demanding the world of him. For never saying how much he loves him. For not realizing he’d do anything to see Kent happy again until this moment.

Kenny gives him the world, every fucking day. He's Jack's best friend, his everything if he's being honest. Why couldn't he appreciate that before?

“Everything,” Jack says. “I’ll leave the door open. I was being a jerk, and I hurt you. I’m sorry.”

Kent wipes something out of his eye. “It’s...shit, it’s not fine. But I love you ok? I...shit this is hard.”

Jack rests his forehead against Kenny’s.

“You can tell me,” Jack says softly.

“I wanna believe you ok?” Kent says a little too quickly. “I just...don’t know if I can.”

Jack nods, kissing the tip of Kent's nose. Kent deserves everything from him. If Jack can even give him a third of what he's done back, he has to try.

He takes a second, trying to figure out what Kent would say if their roles were reversed.

“That's ok,” Jack says. “I need to earn your trust. I want to do that for you.”

The smile on Kent's face radiates brighter than Jack's ever seen. A feeling of warmth spreads throughout his entire body. He said the right thing. He made Kent happy. He can be a better person. He could get used to this feeling.

_/.\\_

 

“Does your mom know where you are?” Kent asks him after their afternoon nap one day.

They bodies are practically glued together, it’s so hot in Kent’s fucking apartment. Not that Jack minds much. The crook of Kent’s shoulder against his pillow is one of the most comfortable places in the world, Jack thinks.

Jack shrugs. “I’m supposed to be at Samwell right now.”

“Ok...are you gonna tell her?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Kent glares at him for a second. “Shit, you’re not gonna tell them you broke up with Bittle.”

“So?”

“So? Jack, they’re your parents. Don’t you...want to tell them? Like fuck, aren’t you always complaining that you don’t talk to them enough.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Jack says.

“Nice deflection.”

Jack huffs. “I learned from the best.”

“Can’t tell if you’re chirping me or your boy,” Kent says with a glare.

“Don’t call him that.” It’s too soon and too raw.

Kent shrugs. “Point is, you’re gonna have to tell them eventually. Might as well get it over with.”

“No, they don’t have to know.”

“Why…” Kent freezes. He stares at Jack half in panic before saying, “You fucking idiot. That’s a terrible plan.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Jack argues.

“Yea, but you’re thinking about playing the part of a happy couple in public.”

Jack hides his face under Kent’s arm, groaning. He really hates that Kent knows him this well.

“This has to be the second worst idea you’ve ever had,” Kent says.  

“Second,” Jack repeats mockingly.

“Fine...the third after how you fucking came out,” he says.  

His first biggest mistake was how he overdosed, Jack thinks. The fact that Kent had begged him for weeks to talk about what was going on with him was still a sore spot. After all this time, he thought Kent had learned that what happened the night before the draft wasn’t his fault. It was never about him.

“You said—”

“I know what I said,” Kent rasps. “Doesn’t mean you didn’t fuck with my career pulling that shit. What was that Jack?”

“It was six—”

“No, fuck that. I’m not putting up with your ‘why aren’t you over this already’ bullshit today. Where the fuck do you get off coming out on national TV like that without giving me, the number one person they were gonna fucking go after, a little heads up?”

Part of him wants to yell at Kent that he really didn’t have a fucking choice. He was put in a situation where he really couldn’t say no. Even though...he knew there were a million reasons to say no. Kent being one of them. Just like the draft, it wasn’t about Kent. But...Jack supposes that something not being about Kent doesn’t mean he didn’t hurt Kent along the way.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Kent digs his fingers through his curls. Jack wants to grab his hands before he starts scratching his scalp. Kenny doesn’t know how to stop when he’s worked up.

“Hands,” Jack murmurs.

Kent stops, blushing furiously. “Thanks, but fuck you.”

“You’re impossible,” he says.

“And you run from your fucking problems until they’re too big to manage,” Kent argues.  

“Where did that come from?”

“Uh let’s see, the Q, the draft—”

“Parse,” Jack warns.

“Your first year as captain—”   

“I was _fine_ ,” he insists, sitting up and moving away from Kent.  

“After I ripped those dicks a new one,” Kent says.

Jack feels his chest clench. Right, he never told Kent what happened after he paid that visit to the upperclassmen. “That made them worse.”

Kent pales. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought—”

“It’s fine,” he says. “You, uh, still helped me a lot.”

Which is true. Kent took any problem he had and tried to make it more manageable. If he couldn’t, he offered his unwavering love until it was over. Whatever Jack had to deal with, Kent was there if he wanted him to be.  

“...Even when you’re a brash idiot,” Jack adds.  

Kent smirks. “What can I say? Trauma and a personality disorder will do that to you.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “I didn’t—”

“Nah, that’s ok,”  Kent says quickly. “I didn’t either. It’s still new to me...but it makes sense. Y’know, inability to regulate emotions and shit. Fear of real or imagined abandonment.”           

Abandonment like getting left half way across the continent on a team that barely cared he existed. Like thinking someone you love died, only to find out later that no one bothered to correct your assumption. Abandonment like what Jack does to Kent whenever hockey takes up too much of his life.

“Kenny,” Jack starts to say something, but words fail him.

“No, it’s ok,” he whispers. “I know you didn’t mean to. And it wasn’t just you, I fucking promise.”

Jack sits up, wrapping an arm around Kent’s shoulders. “But I did. I hurt you.”

Kent shrugs. “That’s life. The people you care about the most are the ones that are gonna hurt you the most.”  

“That’s...fucked up,” he says.

“Yea, well, it’s avoidable I guess,” Kent says. “Y’know, with actual communication and the least shitty coping mechanisms possible.”

Jack thinks if that’s what it takes to make Kent happy, he can do that. Logically he knows it’ll be better for him when everything’s been said and done. Which should matter more. But he remembers the scrawny sixteen year old that fought tooth and nail for them to be on the same line, the twenty one year old who wanted to take on the Haus by himself to make sure Jack felt safe there, and the twenty five year old who patiently lead Jack through his crumbling life the last several months.

Jack rests his head against Kent’s head, inhaling deeply. He smiles to himself because Kent still uses coconut curly cream. Jack remembers a box stuffed in the corner of his desk at home in Montreal. He remembers being eighteen and feeling unsure of everything but Kenny.

“I’ll look for a new therapist when I get back,” he says. “I’m never leaving you again, Kenny. I promise.”

He can’t imagine his life without Kent. The more he thinks about it, the more he realizes what was missing in Providence. It’s the reassurance that he could always go home. That Kenny would be waiting for him no matter what.

Kenny flashes him a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. Jack pulls him into a tight hug. He feels Kenny relax against him, hugging him just as tight.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Kenny whispers.

That’s all Jack can really ask for.

 

_/.\\_

 

When Jack leaves the next day for Providence, he does it dragging his feet the entire way. Kent chirps him to get his ass in gear. He nudges Jack a little over breakfast. He looks out of it, sort of tired and reluctant to leave. Like he’s being ripped away before he’s ready.

Kent hasn’t seen him like this since the summer of the draft when they were leaving Kent’s place in New York. His heart skips a beat, remembering what it felt like to be the center of Jack’s world for an entire month. The smile on Jack’s face as he stumbled through conversations with Kent’s abuela and how he could make anything in Kent’s neighborhood seem novel was fucking magical. Kent remembers hopping that Jack wanted something more.

He shakes his head. Those were the delusions of a lovestruck teenager. Jack needs a friends, and sometimes a fuck buddy. Kent can be that person. He’s older now, and he respects boundaries. Jack will never want him romantically, Kent reminds himself. He won’t make the same mistake twice.

Jack nudges him with his shoulder. “You ok?”

Kent hums. Is he ok? What kind of fucking question is that? Jack’s leaving, of course he’s miserable.

He shrugs. “Are you gonna be ok? Going back?”

“I...uh, I don’t know,” Jack admits. “But I have to try.”

The pit of Kent’s stomach churns. He doesn’t want to find out what could happen if Jack’s “have to try” turns into “I can’t do it anymore.” Kent doesn’t think he can survive that a second time...Which is probably something he should bring up with his therapist.

“You promise you’re gonna get a therapist?”

“Yes, Kent,” he says calmly.

“And you’ll call your mom or one of your friends when you start to spiral and not before it’s too late?”

Jack nods. “And I’ll call you everyday.”

Kent ducks his head, hiding a blush. “You don’t have to do that, Zimms.”

Jack catches Kent’s chin with two of fingers, gently lifting it up to make eye contact with him. His gaze is firm but...loving? Maybe. Kent really isn’t sure. He isn’t used to this kind of look from Jack.

“I want to, Kenny,” he says evenly.

Kent swallows thickly. “Ok,” he says.

Then Jack does something that surprises Kent. He kisses him. But not in the angry, sexy make out kind of way that they’re used to. Not even the chaste “I’m pecking you because we have history and you’re like family to me” kind of way. It’s soft but firm. It’s hesitant and tender, but like it’s trying to shout something at Kent. Like Jack wants Kent to know something he’s communicating through a fucking kiss. Kent goes with it, breathing every “I love you” he can’t say out loud.

When they break apart, Jack rests his forehead against Kent’s. His grin makes Kent smile harder than he can remember doing.

“I’ll call you tonight when I get home,” Jack murmurs against Kent’s lips. “And I’ll keep calling, ok?”

Kent swallows harshly, nodding. “Ok.”

He doesn’t expect Jack to actually call him. It feels like another one of those empty promises he’s made over the years. But Jack calls him, and he keeps calling him. Not just for emergencies either. Kent reminds himself that Jack’s learning how to be a decent guy. Of course he’s going to use Kent as a test dummy.

Jack loves Bitty. Once he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll go crawling back to him.

 

_/.\\_

 

Flowers are delivered to Kent’s apartment on Valentine’s Day. Kent’s cat sitter signs for them and takes a video of Kit sniffing and pawing at the daisies. Kent laughs as he texts Jack the video.

Jack calls a minute later. His hair is a mess, no doubt he just got home from a game.

“You know anything about this?” Kent says instead of hello.

“I think it’s called Valentine’s Day, Kenny. Ever heard of it?” he chirps.

“That’s not what I’m asking, jerk,” Kent says playfully.

“Your place could use some more color,” Jack says.

Kent pouts. “I thought you liked my apartment.”

“It’s boring and empty.”

Now he’s just being rude.

“Uh, excuse you, it’s modern and classy.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Jack chirps. “...So do you like them?”

Right, he hasn’t actually said how he feels about getting flowers. It’s...weird that’s for sure. But he reminds himself that Jack is used to big romantic gestures and he doesn’t have Bittle to smother at the moment. It’s not as extravagant as forty dozen or however many roses. But Jack knows Kent hates being fussed over. He’s learning to listen. It’s…

“Really fucking awesome,” Kent says out loud. “Yea, I love them.”

Jack gets this dopey smile on his face. It takes all of Kent’s will power not to say, “I love you so much it hurts.”

Instead, he listens to Jack talk about his day and how he managed to get out of doing a Falcs TV segment with Bittle. Kent keeps a soft smile on his face, refusing to point out the obvious to Jack. Angry or not, he still loves Bittle. It wouldn’t take that much to pretend to be cute together in public. Because they are cute, really disgustingly cute. Kent knows Jack, he knows Jack will always choose what’s easier over taking risks. Coming out with Bittle was his limit of risk-taking.

Eventually he’ll get tired of being alone and remember what’s so nice, and _easy_ , about being with Eric Bittle. Kent just needs to get through the next few months with his head screwed on right. Jack needs a friend. He deserves a friend without Kent’s feelings getting in the way.   

 

_/.\\_

 

The first time Jack sees Bitty after the breakup, it’s the first week in March for family skate. This year it’s at their training facility since there’s no point in hiding. There’s security in the front to keep fans and protesters out. Jack wants to run from the minute he parks his car.

His hands clutch the steering wheel tightly. His new therapist is...decent. He isn’t exactly thrilled with her. But she gives good perspective and offers him ways to adapt his less than ideal coping mechanisms. She’s been working with Jack to work on stress and anxiety management techniques.

If he’s honest with himself, the only thing he doesn’t like is when she tells him he isn’t looking at a situation right. It’s not that Jack is incapable of being wrong, he knows he’s fallible. It’s that he’s spent so many years restraining himself from saying anything that could potentially embarrass or incriminate him that hearing he’s been looking at life the wrong way cuts deep. It’s a whole new level of failure that he has to wade through.  

He’s working on verbalizing things he needs more. Kenny seems to appreciate it when Jack says how he’s feeling and what he needs. That’s reward enough, he thinks, seeing Kenny relax a little when they talk about how their days went.

Jack takes a deep breath. He and Bittle both messed up. He’s starting to realize that how he thinks of people isn’t necessarily how they are in reality. Maybe it’s time they start working things out. Maybe they’ve had enough space to gain some perspective, he thinks.

Despite his optimism, Bittle doesn’t seem to have the same sentiment. He parks next to Jack’s car not five minutes later. He’s driving that red pickup truck they made out in two summer ago. Seeing the truck is like a punch to the gut, reminding Jack how much has changed since those quiet days in Madison.

It was just them in their own private world. There was nothing and no one who could spoil that. Jack didn’t want that peace to end. He realizes that maybe what he cares about isn’t keeping his sexuality a secret, but letting his private life stay private,in a way it hadn’t been when he was a child with two famous parents, or as a teen with his own hockey career.

Samwell was perfect because being there let Jack fade into obscurity. The campus let him be a normal person for a while. The Falconers let him be an average player...and then Bittle had to ruin that for him.

Bittle’s glaring at him as he slams his car door.

“Well,” Bittle says. “Are you going to help me with these pies or are you going to stand there with your mouth hung open?”

Jack rolls his eyes. “You didn’t have to bake.”

Bittle snorts. “Then everyone would know something’s wrong.”

“Well isn’t it?”

“They don’t need to know that, remember,” Bittle says.

“Whatever,” Jack huffs.

He’s about to take some pies off Bittle’s hands when Bittle moves away, glaring.

“This is your PR event, your team, and your fucking contract,” Bittle argues. “I don’t have to be here.”

“Your point?”

“Don’t be an ass,” he says.

Jack’s too tired to make this day into an all out assault. If they can’t make peace, he can try to make it as painless for himself as possible.

“Fine, Bitty, I’m sorry,” Jack says. “What can I help you with?”

Bittle stares at him for a moment, as if he’s trying to catch Jack lying. He eventually concedes, nodding to a box behind him.

“Can you grab those for me?” Bitty asks.

“Of course,” Jack says amicably.

They get through family skate without much incident. There’s still some tense moments where they’re hissing at each other through their teeth. A few comments that slip under Snowy’s notice when they’re two second away from an all out screaming match. It’s a lot of “playful” chirps about commitment and empathy that boil under the surface.

Jack thought it would be awkward to get through this day, but he never thought it would be difficult. That’s probably his own fault for forgetting how vicious Bittle can be when he’s hurt and enraged. Any chance they have to talk is quickly snuffed by some snide remark.

To be fair, a few of them come from Jack. Because he isn’t as over this breakup as he thought he’d be. Because some wounds don’t close right away. Sometimes they heal wrong or get infected.   
Jack sighs in relief when they get back to their cars and Bittle gives him a curt nod goodbye. He sags against his car seat, texting Kenny and counting down the days until he can be rid of this chapter of his life permanently.

 

_/.\\_

 

It’s mid April and Jack was dragged to a team barbecue at Marty’s house that happens to include the SOAPs. Which means Bittle was invited (and expected to be there). Which resulted in another afternoon of Jack’s life pretending to still be disgustingly fond of and in love with his ex.

His ex who makes no attempt at hiding the hickies going down his neck and collarbone. His ex who grins suggestively when Poots asks if they had a fun night after the previous day’s victory against Anaheim.

Bittle licks his lips, smirking harder as he says, “a gentleman never kisses and tells, Fitzy.”

Jack clenches his palms tightly to stop himself from laughing bitterly. He’s amazed he’s gone on for months without telling anyone besides Kent that he and Bittle are done. Some days he wants to use his Twitter just to tell people to fuck off, they broke up because the pressure was too much. Because the public sucked every last ounce of love and sanity away from them until they couldn’t stand to be in the same room as each other.

Bittle hip checks him lightly, snapping Jack out of his musings.

“If you start dissociating on me, I will call your boyfriend and make him fly his ass out here to come get you,” Bittle whispers.

Jack chuckles genuinely. It’s the first time Bittle’s said something close to caring in a long time. He shakes his head, taking a sip of his beer.

“I’m an adult, I can handle myself,” Jack says lightly.

“Since when?” Bittle chirps.

Jack knows it’s supposed to get under his skin. But he doesn’t care. He’s trying to learn how to accept failure. He isn’t perfect. He fucks up a lot. He failed Bittle a lot, but not as much as Kenny. Kenny’s willing to work through their problems. That has to count for something.

He shrugs. “Someone told me I was holding him back. And, uh, I had to get a few stern lectures but someone made a convincing case for me to go back to therapy.”

“Oh,” Bittle says. His tone is almost pleasant, amicable. “That’s...nice.”

Jack nods. “People can change, Bittle.”

Bittle snorts, leaning against the railing of Marty’s back porch.

“So I’ve been told,” Bittle says. “Guess this year’s been proof of that all around.”

They stand there in silence for a while, watching everyone else mingle and party. There’s a level of cordiality between them. Like they’re stuck in the eye of the storm together. Everything around them is crashing thunderously as they’re forced to watch it unfold.

Bittle snaps Jack’s bottle of beer, taking a few sips for himself.

“What are you going to do after graduation?” Jack asks eventually.

They’d never talked about Bittle’s future. There was always this implication between the two of them that he’d move in with Jack and whatever he wanted to do in his free time he could. Jack frowns, realizing that it’s not much of a life plan. That, and he’d never really asked Bittle if he was prepared to be saddled as a trophy husband for life.

Bittle clears his throat awkwardly, staring at Jack’s beer bottle as he scrapes the label off with his thumbnail.

“Let’s not pretend we’re there yet,” Bittle says quietly. “I can’t...I lost my best friend and boyfriend pretty recently. I don’t think I’m ready to act like everything’s fine and perfect in my fucked up life.”

Jack had never thought of it that way. He’d never stopped to consider how much Bittle relied on him for comfort and stability. Jack...had made it that way. Bittle relied on him for almost everything, and then it was all gone.

“I’m sorry,” Jack ducks his head. “I...we...you deserved more than that.”

Bittle tenses next to him. “Yea, well, apology not accepted,” he says. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

Jack hums. It’s fair. He honestly doesn’t know what he expected. He doesn’t want Bittle to forgive him just like that. He’d probably be angry if Bittle had. They both deserve a lot more than what they were able to give each other even two months ago.

“Maybe someday...” Jack says, “...we could talk about it?”

He expects Bittle to saunter off, or snap in his ear to go to hell. He doesn’t expect Bittle to dejectedly sigh.

“Maybe someday, Jack,” Bittle says. “But not anytime soon.”

Jack nods as Bittle hands him back his beer. He can live with someday.

 

_/.\\_

 

Recovery, Jack’s therapist tells him, isn’t linear. It’s more like a corkscrew spiralling back and forth, re-discovering the same issues from different perspectives. The playoffs start and his anxiety takes off. He has to go to several (dozen) Falconers, NHL, and You Can Play events.

They want him and his “boyfriend” to prove that they are capable of having fulfilling lives and demanding careers. Because when straight people break up it’s nothing. But when a queer couple does it, they’re a disgrace and proof of their own inadequacies.

So he and Bittle may get into a few (dozen) tense conversations between events. Bittle might get a ride home during a rainstorm that leads to him and Jack screaming at each other in a parked car two blocks from the Haus.

Some unkind words may be thrown back and forth that get Jack seething with rage. They may or may not include some comments about Kent being a pathetic whore. Jack may or may not kick Bittle out into the rain for that one...before yelling at him to get back in the car so he can actually drop him off in front of the Haus.

Needless to say, Jack is a ball of rage when he gets home to tell Kenny about it.

“I don’t care,” Kenny tells him flatly.  

Jack balks at him.

“You heard me,” Kenny says as he crosses his arms.

“But he said—”

“I heard what he said,” Kenny says calmly. “He only said it because you were being an ass first, Jack.”

Jack stares at him blankly through the phone.

Kenny pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright, walk me through what happened again, and tell me when exactly you think you hurt him enough to have him say shit like that.”  

Jack repeats the story, but Kenny isn’t satisfied. So he has to go through it again. Kenny stops him in the middle of talking about how they got off the highway toward Samwell.

“You’re leaving something out,” Kenny says. “What did you say before he said ‘why don’t you just fuck him already.’”

Jack squints, trying to remember. “If you need a job after graduation, my mom can pull a few strings with some of her friends in New York.”

“After that,” he says.

“You could do something useful, Kent said you can crash with his mom if you need to—”

“There it is,” Kenny says. “Jack, what the actual fuck?”

“What? You said—”

“Why did you have to say ‘useful’ to the guy who was essentially your sugar baby for a fucking year?”

“Year and a half,” Jack mutters bitterly. The oven counted.

“You know what I’m saying,” Kenny says sternly. “Of course he stopped listening, you were insulting his livelihood when he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s going to do after graduation. You added insult to fucking injury, Zimms.”

“Oh,” Jack says. “I didn’t...you know I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Kenny says with a tired smile. “But you need to learn how to not say stuff like that. It’s not just Bittle who could take stuff like that the wrong way.”

Right, sometimes Jack makes assumptions about what he thinks people need that turn out to be completely wrong. Sometimes him trying to be pragmatic about an issue comes out sounding harsh and uncaring. He has to learn how other people hear what he says.

“Did I ever…” Jack’s voice trails off.

“To me? Yea, plenty of times.”

Jack licks his lips. “When?”

Kenny raises his eyebrows. “Uh...you sure you wanna go there?”

“Yes,” he says.

Then he realizes that he’s backing Kenny into a corner he might not be comfortable with.     

“Only if you want to,” Jack says.

Kenny shrugs. “Uh, off the top of my head...remember when Britney Spears lost custody of her kids and I was a little...upset?”

“A little?” Jack says incredulously.

“Hey, I’m trudging up old shit because you asked,” Kent says with a glare.

“Right, sorry.”

Kenny takes that as good enough. Jack watches him get into his bed, wishing he could be there. The end of the season can’t come soon enough.

“Alright, so in hindsight,” Kenny says. “I was fucking upset because there’s a lot about her personality and story I can relate to. And you know how much I’ve always wanted kids?”

“Yea,” Jack says.

“So like, someone I always loved because of how much she preserved and how she got her happy ending...got her kids ripped away from her,” Kent says. “And it was a million times worse because my own fucking boyfri—”

Kenny freezes. He looks anywhere but at his phone...at Jack. Why is he so upset—

“It’s ok,” Jack says. “That’s what we were. You can say it.”

Kenny looks at him like he’s grown a second head. He shakes his head furiously, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.

“I...I gotta tap out, Jack,” he says. “We can talk about this more later if you want.”

“Ok,” Jack says. “I’m sorry, and I love you.”

Kenny laughs, hiding half his face behind his arm.

“I love you too, Zimms,” he says softly. “You’re my favorite person.”   

Jack tells him goodnight, like he does just about every night. He starts retracing every step of how he fucked up the last time they were together, and the time before that. Kenny texts him a few minutes later, telling him to stop overanalyzing their past. They’re good now and that’s what matters.

A warmth spreads in Jack’s chest. He falls asleep texting Kenny. It’s damn near perfect.

 

_/.\\_

 

The Aces get knocked out of the playoffs in the first round. It really isn’t surprising given how they performed this season. There were a lot of injuries and it was more of a reconstruction year anyhow. Kent thinks they’re lucky to have made it to five games in the series.

Kent goes back home after exit interviews. Jeff and Scraps have already left on their not-so-secret honeymoon so it’s not like he has anyone to be waiting around for. He goes home, helps his mom with the panaderia.

Jack calls him every morning before practice. Kent tries not to let it get to his head. It catches him off guard every time Jack asks how he is. It takes him a few times of that happening to not hang up out of embarrassment. He doesn’t want Jack to see him cry, but he also can’t help it. He’s happy that Jack gives a fuck, but fucking depressed that it took them a decade to get to this point.

He never got this Jack who’s considerate, patient, and kind when he really needed him.

But it’s ok. Jack’s getting better all the time. He’s calmer and happier. One day, probably by the end of the year, he’ll head up to Boston where Bittle’s living. He’ll sweep Bittle off his feet and they’ll live happily ever after. Who knows? Maybe Kent and Bittle will be friends.

When Kent gets to daydreaming about whether Jack’s kids will like him or if he’ll be an obscure “uncle” they talk about only once in a while, he knows he has to stop thinking about the future. Whatever gets Jack through the next year or so will be worth it.

Jack shows at Mariana’s one afternoon the second week of May. He has a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a dopey smile on his face.

“We’re out of the playoffs,” he tells Kent when he approaches the counter.

Kent tries to smile and glare at the same time. Jack seems to think it’s fucking hilarious since he laughs. It’s so loud, his mom walks out of the kitchen, wiping the flour off her hands with a washcloth as she walks.

“Kenny, what’s—oh, Jack,” she says softly.   

Jack waves politely like the awkward dork he is. “Hi, Mariana. Uh, would it be alright if I stayed for a few days?”

She frowns, looking at Kent who shrugs. He’s not against Jack being here, but it isn’t his house. (Not since he bought the building and handed it over to her.)

“Mmmm, make it a few weeks and you’ve got yourself a deal,” Mariana says. “We could use some more muscle around here.”

Kent groans indignantly. “Mami…”

“Don’t _Mami_ me, Kent Vasquez,” she says. “You’re the one who wanted us to go to that farmers’ market in Yonkers. Well, here’s your driver.”

Kent knows she’s up to something. She knows he won’t say no to Jack hanging around for a while. His mom, despite being his best friend and _not_ completely terrible like her ex-wife, is an evil genius.

So Jack helps him with the farmers’ market twice a week, selling pan dulces from their shop and handing out business cards. They hit a few other farmers’ markets around the city throughout the summer. They train at a gym in midtown that Kent pays for membership during the off-seasons.

They work at the panaderia in the mornings and get to dick around in the afternoons once his sister Izzy and her girlfriend get into the shop. Harlem’s Kent’s favorite place in the world. He loves being home. He loves the way Jack lets go when he’s around Kent and his family. He just...smiles brighter and breathes easier.

No one around there has ever thought of Jack as more than Kent’s little-and-then-not-so-little friend. Jack buys a DSLR camera from a pawn shop in Brooklyn one afternoon while Kent’s getting work done on his tattoo sleeve. He walks into the tattoo shop with the camera carefully cradled in his hands and against his eye. Kent moves his head, pretending to be fake-annoyed so Jack can’t see the dumb smile on his face.

Jack was made for photography. He takes a stupid amount of photos of Kent on the 4th of the July. Jack gets him a kitten (“Kit needs a brother,” he says nonchalantly). Kent cries into his shoulder for a few minutes as Jack kisses his forehead.

“Happy Birthday, Kenny,” he whispers.

The end up on the couch with two cats, a bowl of popcorn, half of his extended family scattered around their renovated living room, and one of Alicia’s old movies playing on the TV. Jack keeps his arm around Kent the entire night, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

It’s the best birthday Kent’s had in a really long time.

The rest of the summer tumbles by pretty quickly. Kent blinks, and Jack’s headed back to Providence for PR shit with Bittle. He can’t say he’s surprised. But maybe he’s a little miserable that the bubble’s bursting on their quiet little summer.

Kent walks Jack to the front door of the building, handing Jack his duffle bag solemnly.

“I packed you some orejas, conchas, polvorones…”

“Ok,” Jack says.

“...some cochinitos, cuernos, and a few piedras for your stash of Timmy’s,” Kent finishes with a blush.

Jack chuckles. “That’s a lot.”

“Yea, well, I know what you like,” he mumbles. “I just figured, you might miss this stuff in Providence if you can’t have it everyday.”

Then Jack fucking kisses him out of nowhere. It’s another one of those fucking tender kisses that almost makes Kent think Jack wants him the way he wants Jack.

“I’ll miss you too,” Jack says.

Wait, what? But before Kent can ask what the fuck is Jack saying, he’s kissing Kent again. Jack kissing him always gets Kent tongue tied.

“I’ll call you when I get there,” Jack says.

“Ok,” Kent says.

“I love you,” Jack says.

“I love you you too,” Kent whispers against his lips.

If some of his neighbors ask later when they got back together, Kent just shakes his head. They aren’t together. They never have been. Jack needs a friend, and Kent would do anything to see him be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title - lyrics from Patient by Charlie Puth


	2. every word is a bullet hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aces don't make it to the playoffs so Kent goes back to Harlem for the summer as soon as he possibly can.

November 2017

 

The season is getting into full swing. Jack’s back in Providence, Kent’s been in Vegas for a while, and life is pretty much as it was before the summer. They still video call when they can and text when they can’t. Kent sends him snaps of Kit and Purrs so Jack will have to show him still from his latest nature studies. Kent ships him food like he has time to bake and Jack tells him to dial it back. Jack appreciates the gesture, but he doesn’t want Kent to think he loves him for what Kent gives him.  

The Falconers are doing well enough for the start of the season. A few of the guys are still recovering from offseason surgeries and they’re still getting a feel for the younger guys. Jack wonders when he stopped considering himself a rookie and started feeling like part of the team. He wonders when he started hanging out with Snowy, Poots, and Tater in his free time just because. Not to keep up pleasantries or team chemistry, just...hanging out with his friends because he wants to. It makes him think that therapy’s helping a lot more than he expected it to. That it’s worth being vulnerable once every other week to learn how to give himself and other people more credit.

Since Bitty graduated, he’s had more time to come make appearances at games and events. Jack’s gotten better at giving him a clear schedule and asking what he can reasonably go to in advanced. Bitty, for his part, has gotten significantly better at saying “no, I have plans that night” or “why don’t I show up to this instead and stay longer? We’d both be happier that way.”

Bitty speaks more directly and Jack speaks more often. They don’t say things that are too personal or deep. Mostly surface level things that acquaintances would share with each other.

Sometimes it leaves an ache in Jack’s chest, thinking about how they’ve grown more being apart than they ever did together. He likes this Bitty, though, and the person he’s grown to be. When Bitty texts him occasionally, it throws Jack off in a good way. He has a good friend, he’s still learning how to appreciate him properly.

Before he knows it, it’s Casino Night. He invites Bitty to stay in his guest room so he doesn’t have to worry about driving back to Boston that night. Surprisingly, Bitty accepts. Bitty arrives at Jack’s front door an hour before they’re supposed to be there with his best suit (the one Alicia paid for after they first came out) and a face of seamless makeup. Jack thinks he wouldn’t be able to tell if he didn’t spend most mornings last summer watching Kent apply makeup on himself, covering the bags under his eyes on bad days and applying bold lipstick on good ones.

“You look nice,” Jack admits.

Bitty blushes. “Thanks. You, uh, you do too, Jack.”

Jack grins, the ache in his chest isn’t as prominent today. He thinks maybe he’s moving on.

Casino Night is obnoxious. It’s too loud and people are swarming from one table to the next. After ten minutes, he puts on the noise reducing ear plugs Kenny bought him and plays with the fidget cube in his pocket. When it gets a little too warm in the room an hour later, he excuses himself to get some air.

He’s able to pull himself together, which feels nothing short of a small miracle from where he was a year ago. He texts Kenny, saying he was having a rough time but it’s better now.

  


Kenny - 10:45 pm

Proud of you <3\. Call me if you need to ok?

 

Jack - 10:46 pm

Okay. I promise.

 

Kenny - 10:48 pm

[glitter heart emoji] [blush emoji] [thumbs up emoji]

 

It takes him a little longer to get back inside and to Bitty’s table. When he does, Bitty’s frowning slightly, opening his mouth to ask something but he quickly closes it. Jack squeezes his shoulder as he shrugs. It isn’t ideal to work through an anxiety attack during an event, but he’s managing and he’s ok.

The rest of the night is surprisingly fun. Bitty spends the majority of it chirping his poker face while Poots loses pitifully at blackjack. There’s an easiness to their companionship. He and Bitty talk a little more like they used to, like friends who’ve missed each other regardless of how long they’ve spent apart.

Around midnight, Bitty asks if Jack can take him back to the apartment so he can head home. For a moment he panics, wondering if he messed up. Instead of letting his emotions escalate, he clenches his fists tightly for a second, grounding himself.

“Are you sure?” Jack asks. “I can get you a hotel room if—”

“No it’s nothing about you or anything like that,” Bitty says. “I am having fun. It’s just—”

Bitty takes a deep breath, running a hand through the cowlicks standing on top of his head.

“It’s been...a lot being around all these people tonight. I just want to get home and be able to relax. If that makes sense.”

Jack vaguely thinks that this is the sort of thing Jack used to say when all he wanted to do was get home so he could call Bitty. Something settles in the pit of his stomach. Not fear or jealousy, it’s something more akin to relief or hope. Bitty might’ve found himself someone. He might’ve found the person of his dreams.

“Ok,” Jack says amicably. “Let’s get our coats.”

Bitty sighs a little, grinning tiredly. “Thanks for understanding.”

“It’s no problem, Bits,” he says. “I want whatever’s best for you.”

Later when Bitty drives off toward Boston and Jack trudges up the stairs to his apartment, a warmth spreads in his heart. He was telling Bitty the absolute truth. He wants what’s best for him.

It feels nice to know that he’s getting that.    

 

_/.\\_

Jack wakes up from a pre-game nap one afternoon a few weeks later to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand next to him. He assumes it’s Kenny so he answers it without checking the caller ID.

“Hey,” Jack says, his voice gravelly and dry.

“Hey...Jack,” Bittle says. “Uh, is this a bad time?”

Jack yawns. “No, not at all.”

Bittle snorts. “I woke you up, didn’t I?”  

“Maybe,” he says lightly. “Are...are you alright?”

“Of course, what kind of—” Bittle stops talking. “Oh, right. Well, nothing’s wrong. I just called to...talk.”

Jack stops himself from chirping Bittle. They’re not those kinds of friends anymore. Even if they’re slowly making their way back there, Jack needs to respect when Bitty wants to be taken seriously.

“Sure,” Jack says. “What about?”

“I was thinking...maybe it’s been long enough since we broke up,” he says shakily. “I’d like to apologize for my part in it if you’re willing to hear me out.”

“Oh,” Jack says.

He thinks is more surprising than it should be. They broke up almost a year ago. They’re functioning much better than they used to. The scars don’t ache and writhe like they used to. Of course it’s time to move on. But...is Jack ready to move on? To get closure on a time in his life he’d rather not think about? To apologize for the person he when he hurt Bitty?

“Is that alright?” Bitty asks.

“Can I have some time to think about it?”

“Of course,” Bitty says amicably. “Take all the time you need.”  

 

_/.\\_

 

Over the last several months, Jack has gotten much better at not avoiding his problems, and putting off things that make him anxious until he’s too paralyzed in fear to do anything. That being said, it only takes him a half an hour of mild dissociation as he paces around his apartment to cave and call Kenny.

“I don’t know what to tell him,” Jack explains after he catches Kenny up to speed.

"Umm...you both deserve closure,” Kenny says. “But if you're not ready for that, just tell him. You know he'll understand."

Jack hears what Kenny’s saying, but he’s...distracted. He woke Kenny up from an afternoon nap and his hair is a frizzy, curly rat’s nest (Kenny’s words, not his). He looks so soft and level headed even while half awake. He always gives as much as he can to Jack.

It makes his heart skip a beat. He doesn’t know where he’d be without Kenny. He can’t imagine his life without him. He just...really loves Kent Parson. It’s not news to anyone, and certainly not him. But sometimes, like now, it catches him off guard how strongly he can feel for one person.

“Uh, what’s going on Zimms?” Kenny asks. “You’re...kinda starting to worry me with all this staring.”

Jack realizes he hasn’t said anything in a few minutes.

"Thanks,” Jack says with a soft grin. “I really needed to hear that.”

Kenny blushes as he clears his throat. "No problem man, I'm always here for you."

Jack smiles harder because he knows that's true. He's so glad because he doesn't know how he would've survived the last year without Kenny.

 

_/.\\_

 

Jack calls Bitty the next day. He has a script written down on a sticky note next to him so he won’t end up. But when Bitty’s picks up the phone and says hello, he panics slightly.

“I’d...I’d like that, but I’m not sure if I’m ready yet to apologize,” Jack says.

The silence on the other side of the line is nerve wracking, but fair. He knows Bitty’s probably disappointed.

“I am sorry, Bits,” he explains. “You deserve a real apology. I don’t think I’m there yet.”

“I think...that’s ok,” Bitty says after another minute. “If you’re not ready to talk things out, that’s alright. But I think it’s ok for me to apologize to you? As long as you’re comfortable with that. We don’t need to bury the hatchet all at once.”

Jack breathes a little easier than he has since yesterday. Slow progress is ok. It’s more than ok. Nothing can be perfect at once. Maybe that was their problem last year, expecting everything to work out on the first try and quitting before coming up with real compromises.

“Ok,” Jack agrees. “I’d like that.

 

_/.\\_

 

January 2018

 

“Hey Parser,” Scraps says one day after practice. “You check instagram today?”

Kent looks stops tapping his tape mid wrap, leaning over to look at Scraps’ phone.

It’s a picture of Jack at All Star Weekend a few days ago. Bitty’s there with an arm wrapped around Jack’s waist. They don’t look as rehearsed and plastic as they did a few months back. They look loads happier than they did a year ago right before Jack showed up on his doorstep.

He loses his breath for a second, trying to keep a neutral face. Of course they’re happy again. They’ve had time space and a fucking truck load of communicating to get somewhere better, less raw and resentful, than they were before.

Kent forces a grin on his face. He is happy for them, more than happy. He knows Bitty makes Jack happy. He wants Jack to be loved by people that can give him everything he needs.

“Yea,” Kent says quietly. “They look fucking cute.”

“Careful Parser,” Carl says. “You wouldn’t want the higher ups thinking you’re homophobic or some bullshit like that.”

Kent shrugs, mustering a fake chuckle that sounds pretty fucking real.

“What? I’m seriously happy for them,” Kent says. “Doesn’t everyone deserve true love or some shit like that?”

“Whatever,” Carl says.

Jeff comes up behind Carl, smacking him on the back of the head. “Don’t be so pissy. It’s not anyone’s fault but yours your wife left.”

“She’s visiting her mom for the weekend, fucker,” Carl says.

“Keep telling yourself that, buddy,” Jeff says with a wink.

The locker room dissolves into a chirp war. Kent sighs, going back to his tape until Scraps nudges him gently.

“You ok, man?” Scraps says. Because he knows better than anyone how much of Kent’s heart is occupied by Jack.

Kent shrugs. “Like I said, everyone deserves true love.”

He just wishes he was one of them.

 

_/.\\_

 

Jack calls Kenny one afternoon in early February. It’s their typical Sunday morning “fuck optional skate, let’s train and talk instead.” Kenny catches him up on how Swoops and Scraps are doing, as well as the cats. As if Jack needs an update from yesterday’s twenty minute Instagram live video as Kenny tried to teach Purrs to shake paws like a dog. (Not that Jack minds hearing about the cats; anything that makes Kenny’s eyes light up and gets him a little less guarded has to be a good thing.)

There’s a point in the conversation where they’re chirping each other about reps that Jack remembers he’s been meaning to ask Kenny something.

“My therapist wants to make new goals for this year,” he explains. “Is there anything you think I should work on?”

He watches Kenny freeze mid bicep curl. Kenny slowly lowers his weights before turning off the music blasting from his living room.

“Jesus, don’t ask me I’m biased,” Kenny says finally.

“You’re important to me. If there’s something I could be working on, I want you to tell me,” he says.

Kenny flushes. Jack watches quietly as he scrubs his face.

“Just...look I’m sure there is but you literally can’t ask me to say anything negative about you. It’s not who I am...not anymore.”

Jack frowns. “Kenny, that isn’t right.”

“Yea, well, sue me,” he says quietly. “If you do something to hurt me, you know I’ll fucking tell you then and there. But I can’t...be critical of you ok? I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Can you try?”

“I guess,” Kenny grabs the phone, walking to the bathroom and turning the shower on.

“What are you—”

“The steam helps alright?”

Kenny takes a seat on the floor of the bathroom next to the tub. He covers his eyes with the hand that isn’t holding his phone up.

“I think...I’m just learning to trust you again ok? You’re trying your fucking hardest and you’re getting better. Anything that used to hurt isn’t...that isn’t you anymore ok? I wanna forget that shit.”

Jack takes a deep breath. “Ok, I think there’s things we should still talk through. I want to earn your trust back. If there’s anything I can do to help let me know.”

“I think you’re doing pretty fucking amazing already,” he says. “It’s just gonna take some time ok? Be patient with me.”

“Always, Kenny,” he says softly.   

They go onto lighter subjects until Kent needs to make himself breakfast and Jack needs to head out to team brunch. Later that week, he’ll talk to his therapist on how to coax Kenny out of his shell more. He wants to be supportive without being demanding. Jack wants Kenny to feel safe around him. The same way he feels around him.

_/.\\_

 

It’s the last week of the regular season when Jack and Bitty finally get to talking. Bitty’s said something things in the last few months to the effect of “we should have talked about how we were going to come out before we did.” But the conversation usually doesn’t get much farther than that.

This time it’s Jack who takes the initiative, asking if he can take Bitty out to lunch during one of the off days before the playoffs. He meets Bitty at a restaurant not far from Bitty’s place. It’s an nuvo american place that sells mostly vegan dishes. They get a booth in the back where they can speak candidly as long as they keep their voices down.  

Jack knows he’ll have to drink an extra protein shake that night to make up for the lack of meat in his meal. But the avocado toast is...surprisingly less terrible than he expected it to be.

Bitty laughs at his expression when he tries it.

“You like it,” Bitty chirps.

Jack glares at him playfully. “Tell Kent and you’re dead.”

“I’m sure he won’t embarrass you too bad,” Bitty says.

“No, worse, he’ll drag me to Soho during the off season,” Jack says.

“That doesn’t sound so—”

“Every single day,” he laments.

Bitty glares. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Only a little.”

They burst into laughter. Bitty tries a bite of his curry, wrinkling his nose.

“Is something wrong with the food?”

Bitty shakes his head. “It tastes fine. I’m just being picky. I’ve gotten used to eating a certain type of curry. Guess my tastebuds are accustomed to it or something.”

Jack hums in understanding. They eat quietly for a while.

“Thanks for treating me to lunch,” Bitty says.

“You’re always coming down to Providence for me, it’s the least I could do.”

Bitty shrugs. “Still, I appreciate the gesture. It’s...I like this. It’s nice to hang out with you outside of hockey events.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Jack says.

He takes another bite of toast before clearing his throat awkwardly.

“Listen, Bits,” he starts out cautiously. “I...I want to give you my apology now—”

“Oh,” Bitty says.

“If that’s ok?”

He blushes. “Well, I haven’t given you a very good apology yet, so...mind if I do the same?”

“You’ve said plenty,” Jack says.

“Not enough,” he argues. “But, you brought this up first. You have the floor, sir.”

“I’m sorry about the way things ended with us,” Jack starts. “I...regardless of how stressed and anxious I was, you deserve my honesty, always. I should’ve told you that I wasn’t ready to come—”

“That’s ok, I was the one who pushed during one of the biggest moments of your life—”

“I know, and I forgive you,” Jack says. “But I need to forgive myself too...if that makes sense. I...we were in a serious relationship. We should have talked more. I knew better than to avoid hard conversations, but I did that anyway. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you or myself.”

Bitty frowns. “Ok, I’m sorry too. I wasn’t ready for all this. I wasn’t ready to be a trophy husband but I thought...I guess I thought if I loved you enough that would fix everything that wasn’t working perfectly right. I’m sorry I took that out on you.”

Jack chuckles. “Me too, I think.”

Bitty smirks. “We’re a couple of sappy messes aren’t we?”  

“Yea,” he agrees. “Uh, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you to help when things were tough. I should have told you things weren’t working before I started...going to Kenny for everything. I’m not sorry that I love him. But I am sorry that I neglected you and took you for granted. I’m sorry I left you without the support you needed when everything changed so quickly.”

Bitty takes a deep breath, nodding. “Yep, that was...that was hard Jack. Watching you fall out of love with me and back in love with your perfect ex? It hurt.”

“I never fell out of love with you, Bits,” he admits.

He ignores the mildly panicked look on Bitty’s face. He pretends it’s a look of confusion and not concern or disgust.

“I think how I love you changed, but I didn’t stop,” he says before he loses his nerve. “You, uh, we weren’t right for each other. But I still care about you.”

He eats some more toast to distract himself from the dread swirling in his gut. He’s said too much, he thinks. He was trying to be transparent and fair to both of them, but clearly he’s made himself look like an ass—

Bitty grabs his forearm, squeezing gently. Jack looks up. His expression is soft and kind. It’s understanding and patient in a way Bitty tried to be in college but couldn’t. It makes Jack blush. This is the man he thought Bitty could be some day.

“I think I still love you too,” Bitty says quietly. “I...I think you’re right. We aren’t great for each other. At least not alone.”

Bitty takes his hand back, gripping his glass of lemon water tightly.

“I agree, you deserve to have a life outside of mine. You deserve privacy and someone who can be there for you more than I am.”

Bitty sighs. “Yea, I do. I want...I need to have my own career and dreams that don’t include you.”

“I know,” he says.

“But you deserve someone who understands what you’re going through and can keep up with your lifestyle,” Bitty argues. “I can’t be that person...but Kent can.”

Jack feels something unclench inside him, like a bear trap that’s finally rusted over. It sounds nice...in theory. He’d like something with Bitty, someday. Something more real than what they’re doing now, but with more boundaries and communication. He wants more of these moments outside of the public eye. He wants to laugh with someone who understands that Jack isn’t all hockey. He has that with Kenny too, but it’s different. Not better or worse, just a different history.

He notices Bitty giving him a bemused face. He chuckles.         

“You seem happier,” Jack says.

Bitty blushes. He bites his lip as he nods slightly. “I guess I am. I...yea Jack, I’m happy.”

Jack asks the waiter for their check. They walk back to Bitty’s apartment. They hug before Bitty unlocks the door.

“Thanks again for lunch,” Bitty says. “I’ll think about what we talked about some and get back to you, alright?”

“Take all the time you need,” Jack says.

Bitty grins easily. It feels better than their kiss after the Cup. It isn’t easy. It isn’t concrete or tangible in anyway. It’s nothing like a big romantic gesture or a promise that things will change, will get better. But it’s honest and real. It feels like a win.

“Bring them around sometime,” Jack says.

Bitty opens his mouth to argue but stops himself. “I’ll let them know you extended an offer. I think...I think they’d be pleased to see you.”

“Tell them I said to treat you right,”

Bitty rolls his eyes. “They always do, but I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

He watches Bitty walk into his building and disappear into an elevator before he heads to his car.

They aren’t perfect, and they aren’t getting back together. But maybe someday they can get back there. They’re on the same page about things now more than they ever were before. They can talk their problems through like rational adults. It’s...exhilarating almost. Life is so much easier when he knows how to find the right words.

At least fake dating will be easier now. At least they’re having fun whenever they get dragged to events or photo ops. For now, Jack thinks he has his old friend back. It’s worth the long road it took to get here.

_/.\\_

 

The Aces don't make it to the playoffs so Kent goes back to Harlem for the summer as soon as he possibly can. Jack’s been talking a lot more about Bitty lately. About how much fun they’re having at events and how they’re talking shit through. Part of his is so proud of Jack for mending fences like he has.

Every inch of his stupid fucking body is counting down the seconds until Jack cuts him out again, screaming to get the fuck out of dodge while he can. He doesn’t want be there when Jack realizes that Kent’s outlived his usefulness (again).

So he lays low. He responds when Jack texts him, but doesn’t initiate conversations that’ll annoy Jack. He answers the phone when Jack calls but doesn’t bother otherwise. Jack has a busy schedule. He doesn’t need Kent distracting or annoying him.

Sometime during the second round, Jack calls him like he does while making his pregame sandwich. Kent listens diligently as Jack talks about team morale and gives his two cents when asked.

“When are you coming up?” Jack asks out of fucking nowhere.

Because he’s caught completely off guard, Kent doesn’t make up a slick come back. Instead he says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Jack frowns and Kent starts to apologize—  

“Right, we haven’t talked about you visiting have we?”

Part of Kent wants to ask what’s the point? Can’t Jack cut him out of his life over the phone? That would be more decent than last time. But he knows he’s slipping a little and the last thing he wants to do is split on Jack before a fucking playoffs game. He would hate Kent forever if he made him lose an important game.

He swallows every fucking emotion he has and instead says, “why don’t you come visit me when you’re done kicking the Aeros asses?”

Jack gives him this incredulous look like he’s trying to cut through Kent’s skull so he won’t have to listen to bullshit anymore. But after the longest staring contest of Kent’s entire fucking life, Jack shrugs saying a quick ok before changing the conversation.

Jack calls him every day after that until the Falcs lose in the eastern conference finals. He doesn’t hear from Jack that night. It’s fine; he doesn’t expect to. He’s sure that Jack will take a few days to shake it off before going to Boston and getting back with Bitty for real this time.

It’s a bittersweet thought. He’ll never be ready to lose Jack. But it’s fucking time for them both to move on. Kent is just...so tired of the secrecy and lies. He’s tired of being the poster boy for cishet allies in the NHL and he’s tired of pretending for everyone that he’s ok with just being Jack’s friend. He’s tired of lying to himself that it’ll be ok; that he can stay Jack’s friend and be everything that needs the exact way he wants him to be.

He’s queer, brown, and sick of hockey culture bullshit. He doesn’t want to be the voice of a team, league, or fucking sport. He doesn’t want any of it anymore if he’s being honest with himself. He just wants to find what really makes him happy. Hockey hasn’t cut it for him in years. Not since that stupid party when Jack closed the door on them playing again forever.

There’s not much he can do about it right now. He still has a year left on his contract. But he’s sick of being something he’s not. He shaves his hair that night so none of the bleach blonde rat’s nest is left on his head.

He looks a lot softer without hair, ironically. He looks...queer and artsy as fuck. He looks like a rebel. He’s fucking free to be whatever he wants. He’s free to be his own person for once.

It’s terrifying as it is amazing.

_/.\\_

 

The Falcs lose the conference finals. It’s a hard loss to accept, but Jack takes time to process and let it go. Hockey is a team sport. He understands his part on the team and won’t shoulder the whole burden alone. He has to stay in town the next few days for press and locker clean outs. It’s always sad to end a season short of a championship win, but it doesn’t sting like he it used to.

He’s grown a lot from the kid he was before the draft, or even the man he was after losing the Frozen Four, he thinks.

As soon as he can, he packs his bags and drives to New York for the summer. He tells his parents he’s staying in the area until Canada Day. He hopes by that time that he’ll have something concrete to tell them about his personal life. He thinks about a box in the back of his closet in Montreal. He wants to get it as soon as possible. Part of him thinks it’s nine years overdue.

He leaves his car in the assigned spot he has in a garage a few blocks from Kent’s place, walking the rest of the way home. His steps feel lighter than they probably should. He knows there’s so many things they have to talk out. He isn’t sure that everything will go according to plan.

But in an ideal world, they talk about their future together. They go on dates and research polyamory together. He knows Kent deserves more partners too. Kent deserves all the love and attention in the world. Logistically speaking, he’s just not sure how long or strenuous getting to that place will be.

Jack’s more than ready for it. They don’t have to do anything Kenny’s uncomfortable with. But he has to make his feelings known. Kenny deserves his honesty first and foremost.

The closer he gets to Mariana’s, the more elated he feels. He’s missed summers with Kenny. He’s missed seeing Kenny in person, being able to hold and kiss him. He misses the wrinkle his gets between his eyebrows when he’s analyzing plays or trying to remember something obscure. He misses how Kenny’s voice sounds like fresh rain. He misses every inch of him like a piece of his heart that’s been away for too long.

Jack takes a deep breath once he gets to the top of the staircase, right in front of Kenny’s apartment. He knocks loudly. Kenny shouts something from somewhere in the apartment, probably his room by how muffled it sounds.

A minute later,  Kenny opens the door. Jack almost doesn’t recognize him with a shaved head, velvet crop top and cargo pants on. He looks...really good. He looks more like himself than Jack’s seen in ages. He reaches out a hand to caress Kenny’s jawline.

“Hi,” Jack rasps.

Kenny blushes, quickly averting his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He’s using his media voice.  

Jack frowns, lowering his hand. Why is he saying it like that?

"I came to visit, like you told me to.”

 

_/.\\_

 

"I came to visit, like you told me to,” Jack says.

Kent wants to scream “what the fuck” when he recalls how he brushed Jack off before. He made it sound like an invitation. Honestly, he’s done that plenty of time’s in the past when he wasn’t up for Jack’s company but knew he couldn't say no. He wasn’t expecting Jack to actually show up. He’s never done that before.

“Uh, right,” he says quietly. “C’mon in.”

Kent moves out of the way so Jack can enter. The second he closes the door, Jack’s kissing the ever living shit out of him. Instinctively, he starts to kiss back, getting lost in his perfect fucking lips.

This is wrong, he remembers. Jack is in love with Bitty. He’s probably already back together with Bitty. He wants to let go for a second, just enjoy his last kiss with Jack. But it hurts knowing the second it’s over, he’ll have to try to get over Jack all over again. It isn’t fair. He’s so fucking tired of having his heart broken because he isn’t good enough. He’s just...so over this.

Kent gently pushes Jack away. Jack looks at him like he fucking punched him in the face.

“What's wrong?” Jack asks.

“It's nothing,” he lies. He can’t...deal with talking about his emotions too.  
Unfortunately, Jack doesn't know how to let up or take a hint. “Then why did you stop us?”  
Kent groans, walking past him and toward the living room. “Because it's weird? Because it's wrong?”  
Jack sputters. “What? Since when? You love kissing.”  
Kent flops against the couch. His shoulder aches but that’s to be expected at this point. Pain is a constant in his life.He’ll probably need a surgery by the end of next season. “That's not the point,” he argues. “You have Bitty and you're working shit out with him. I'm sorry if I fucked that up. You can blame all this on me.”  
Jack looks at him like he’s gone completely insane. Well, it’s not him this time that’s fucking bonkers.

“All of what? Kenny—”     
“Don't, Jack,” he says, closing his eyes.

He can do this, he reminds himself. He has to be the bigger person. No matter how much he would kill be selfish and beg Jack to fucking love him for once as much as Kent loves him.

“I just don't have the fucking stamina to keep lying like this,” Kent says. “It's too much ok? I feel like I'm drowning.”

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. The air is stale between them and the only thing breaking the silence between them is the humming of the portable AC unit his mom won’t let him get rid of. They could totally afford an upgraded HVAC system. But that’s just one in a long line of distractions Kent’s using to keep himself from fixating on the current situation too hard.

He hears Jack sigh as he sits down next to Kent. He wraps an arm around Kent’s shoulders. It eases some of the tension out his body. He’s too weak to shove Jack away twice anyhow. He’s pathetic like that.    
“Why didn't you tell me?” Jack says.

As if Kent has an easy answer. He would stop falling for Jack if he could.  
“Because it feels like my fault? I should've known better. I should've stopped before it got out of hand, and I’m sorry,” he voice hitches as he keeps rambling, terrified of losing his resolve. “You don't have to worry about it, though, I'll stay out of your hair as much as possible.”

He starts fucking caressing Kent’s jaw again. It makes him melt further into Jack’s arms. Kent feels a tear go down his cheek. He wishes this were over already. He wishes Jack would go back to hurting him out right instead of trying to let him down easy. He isn’t a fragile flower. He can take as many metaphorical hits as Jack hands him.  
“None of this is your fault,” Jack says. ”...I should've asked you how you felt about this sooner. _I'm_ sorry. You've been so understanding.”

Kent snorts, trying to wipe the stupid vulnerability out of his eyes. “Doesn't feel like it. Feels like I've been suck in a daydream trying to delude myself into thinking everything's going to be ok.”  
“But it will be,” Jack’s voice sounds so soft and fucking _hopeful_ — “Er, maybe not right away. But in a year or two Bits and I can split publically and then—”     
“Wait what,” Kent interrupts. What the fuck is he saying? Kent’s heart rate skyrockets. Jack doesn’t just...choose Kent what the actual bonafide fuck.  
Kent dares to meet Jack’s gaze. He probably looks like a manic mess. His eyes feel like they’re popping out of their fucking sockets. “Why would you do that?”  
“For you?” Jack says, as if it’s so easy.

But it’s not...he can’t, he can’t be Jack’s mistress. He can’t be the thing that ruins what Bitty and Jack have.

“I would never make you leave him,” Kent says quietly. “You love him. Why would I apologize for being in love with you and then make you break up with your boyfriend?  
Jack gapes at him for a second. His mouth hangs half open before he says. “...I'm confused...Kenny, I'm not dating Bits.”

Ok, so they aren’t back together yet. But that’s fine. He can adjust his speech.  
“Well of course not right now, you still haven't made up with him. Which, whatever, take your time you deserve to have him if he makes you happy.”

Jack stares at him more closely. It makes Kent want to jump across the room. It feels like he’s under a fucking microscope.    
“You're polyamorous?” Jack asks carefully.

Which, ok that’s a weird time to ask but why not.  
“...Yea...but...what does that have to do with anything? You’re monogamous as fuck and you already have Bitty…”    
Jack’s face scrunches up really tightly for a second. Kent must’ve aggravated him too much because he freakishly relaxes two seconds later.

“...Kenny, we're dating,” Jack says.

Something...tells him there’s something Jack’s thinking that he isn’t getting.    
“We as in…”  
“You and I, us,” Jack says slowly. “We're together.”

“...No we're not.”  
“We've been together for a year,” Jack insists.  
This is seriously starting to freak him out. It’s like Jack’s from a completely different universe or something like that.

“Jack stop, this isn't funny.”  
“I'm not joking! I went to Vegas, we talked, I kissed you and asked you out.”

What is he fucking talking about? Kent stands up, pacing to get his nerves under control. “You never asked me out! I would remember the one thing I've always wanted actually happening!”  
“I said I would call, and then I called,” Jack argues.

Part of Kent vaguely understands where Jack’s logic is coming from. Jack isn’t direct when he wants things. At least, he didn’t used to be. But on the other hand, this has to be some elaborate prank.  
“That isn't asking someone out,” Kent says.”That's making a promise and then fucking keeping it.”

Jack gets up, crosses the room and fucking kisses Kent like he’s worth something. Like he’s worth giving an iota of love to. In the back of his mind, Kent realizes that Jack’s serious. He thought they were dating. Jack Zimmermann has been dating him for over a year. Jack fucking Zimmermann sends Kent flowers and adopts a cat for his birthday and fucking calls him every fucking day if he can. Jack—his ex boyfriend, the love of his life, that Jack—calls him because he misses him and asks him what he wants for Christmas or Channukah or both if he wants. Zimms says I love you to Kent every fucking day and means it the way Kent’s always wanted him to.

And Kent hasn’t been able to enjoy it. He can’t even enjoy the one thing he’s always wanted because Jack won’t fucking tell it to him straight. Because anything’s easier than telling Kent he wants him, even dying.

He vaguely hears someone screaming as Jack hugs him tighter. Eventually, he realizes that he’s sobbing into Jack’s chest. Somehow, Jack pulls him down onto the couch and soothes him out of the worst fucking spiral he’s felt in a while. He’s just so...heartbroken and fucking mad at both of them for being idiots. He can’t even believe this is his fucking life.

Jack manages to calm him down from shrieks to quiet sobs. He rubs Kent’s back slowly as he kisses his head.

“Are you sure?” Kent hears himself say.

“Yes, I promise. I love you,” Jack says.

Kent gets this faint feeling of dejavu. “How...how many times have I said that?”

“Not sure,” he says. “I lost count after twenty.”

He’s been dissociating for a while, apparently. “Fuck, I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be,” Jack says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t clear. I...I hurt you again. I’m sorry.”

Kent buries his head in the crook of Jack’s neck. “Don’t be. It takes two idiots to kind of date for a year and a half right?”

Jack chuckles. He holds Kent tighter, causing him to cry again. This time it’s good tears. He likes being held when he feels shitty.    

“Are you ok?”

“Eh, I will be,” Kent admits. “It’s just...gonna suck for a while. I need to like, wrap my mind around you wanting me. It’s gonna be hard to adjust. I might...I mean if you wanna keep doing this? I probably need to up my therapy sessions for a while.”

Jack kisses his nose softly. He has these droopy soft eyes that Kent’s only seen directed at Bittle. He thinks...maybe this is the weird look Jack has on his face every once in a while when they’re on the phone. It’s fucking surreal to think it means that Jack _loves_ him.

“Whatever you need,” Jack murmurs. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Kent thinks he has an idea. But it’s stupid and petty. It’s not something he actually needs to hear because having Jack with him right now is more than he ever thought he’d get. He doesn’t want to push his fucking luck. So he shrugs like he has no clue. After a little while, Jack kisses his cheek. He holds Kent so close that Kent can hear his heartbeat. Kent snuggles closer, closing his eyes. He doesn’t have to lose this today. It’s miracle enough for him.

Jack kisses again, saying.  "I love Bittle, but I love you more."

Kent thinks he makes a sound between a grasp and choked sob.

"Sorry it took me so long to realize it," Jack says.

Jack tries to say something else, but Kent shuts him up with a kiss. Whatever he has to say can wait. Kent’s tired, a little worse for wear, and so weirdly happy. He pours every ounce of love that he can into kissing Jack. Because he can do that now. It’s ok...or, it’s going to be ok.

Jack loves him.

 

_/.\\_

 

After that, for a lack of a better word, argument with Kenny on the first day of Jack’s offseason, things get easier. Not easy in the context of all their problems fade and they live happily ever after. But things are easier to talk through now that they’re on the same page.

Sometimes he has to ask Kenny two or three times what he really wants, and sometimes Kenny has to ask Jack to stop asking for his opinion because he’s still learning how to want things for himself. But Kenny’s getting better at admitting when he wants something or when Jack says something that hurts. Neither of them want to be afraid of hurting the other. But the more they talk things out, the easier it is to avoid getting confused and agitated with each other.

It’s nice being back in Harlem. It does feel like home, in a strange way. Kenny’s family always welcomes him with opens arms. He’s a nobody around here. Jack gets to be Mariana's kid's gringo boyfriend, and not a hockey star. He gets to take photos of everyone on the block because he has a reputation for taking the best shots. Kenny’s abuelos and aunts come around at least once a week to ask him and Kenny to lift heavy things as if that’s what their muscles are for. It’s simple, yet intimate.

He gets to walk down the street with his arm around Kenny’s shoulder like any other couple in the world. They explore the city on sunny afternoons after they’re done helping Mariana in the bakery. Every so often, they stop in the middle of a conversation because Jack says something that make Kenny laugh. It always catches Jack off guard, how beautiful Kenny is. Sometimes, he’ll just kiss Kent's shaved head, murmuring how much he loves him.

He always succeeds in making Kenny blush. Kenny gets his septum pierced. He’s out in the sun more this summer so his skin tans like Jack hasn’t seen in years. He wears whatever he wants whenever he wants. Sometimes he wants to wear Jack’s old Samwell shirts; sometimes he wants to borrow one of Izzy’s dresses that flow delicately off him.  

“‘Ts not like my top dysphoria gonna come,” Kenny says one afternoon, gesturing to his flat chest.

He got top surgery the year before the draft. Jack thinks that Kenny could look any way he wants and Jack will never stop loving him. Kenny’s an enigma when it comes to gender, with his pronouns getting more fluid by the day. But that’s ok, Jack’s sexuality is fluid enough to keep up.

Kenny drags him to Pride that year. They’re unrecognizable between Kenny’s gender expression and Jack’s beard. They party with the masses. Kenny pulls him into a kiss every chance he gets. Jack takes a million photos for his private Instagram (his real one, the one for his family and close friends). He takes a selfie of him kissing Kenny on the cheek with the caption “I never thought I’d get to be here with you. Thank you for being patient with the world...and me.”

He thinks this is as good a way as any to come clean to the people who matter. He loves Kenny and he doesn’t care who (within reason) knows.

It’s perfect. They’re perfect. They have their problems, but they’re manageable. They have their mental blocks and mental illnesses, but they’re treatable. There’s nothing that a little time, work, patience, and love can get them through. Love is important, Jack thinks, but it isn’t the only thing that leads to a happy life.

With Kenny, he realizes, he has everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic title - lyrics from Forgiveness by Paramore 
> 
> up next: what Bitty's been up to from the break up in January 2017 until Pride 2018


End file.
